LoveStrange
by broadwaybuff
Summary: Centred about the sexual evolution of Jesse and Rachel's secret relationship; what happens when pride, envy, wrath, avarice, despair, gluttony and lust perform as major components in their twisted world dominated by false pretences? Will they ever escape?
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer:** _FIRST; I do not own Glee._

_SECOND; This story is set in a totally Alternate Universe. It has little to do with canon and when describing this world, think extravagant and not entirely based on realism like Moulin Rouge! or Repo! The Genetic Opera or even something set in a Frank Miller universe. I'm planning to write the setting along the lines of a Baz Luhrrman atmosphere (almost). Huge fan of him, by the way._

_THIRD; This is a future story as well. The characters are basically in their twenties._

_FOURTH; I'm reaping my inspiration from the theme of 'The Seven Deadly Sins'._

_FIFTH; I do not own 'Strange Love' by Depeche Mode (though, I am basing a lot of inspiration on the Friendly Fires cover of this song)._

**Author's Note:** _What? Another story? Yes!_

_This is my first multi-chaptered 'M' rated story. I'm glad to be provided an outlet for social criticism and St. Berry smut we are all so starved for. So, I hope to meet your expectations._

_This first chapter is relatively short and is pretty much an introductory to our studly hero. Don't worry; you will have barely scratched the surface about the handsome rogue once you're done reading this first bit. Be prepared to delve further into the inner workings of his mind in chapters to come._

_As per usual, READ, ENJOY and REVIEW. But, most of all: ENJOY._

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**LOVESTRANGE**

**Summary: **_Centred about the sexual evolution of Jesse and Rachel's secret relationship; what happens when pride, envy, wrath, avarice, despair, gluttony and lust perform as major components in their twisted world dominated by false pretences? Will they even make it out alive?_

**Rating: **_M_

**Pairing: **_St. Berry_

**World: **_Alternate Universe_

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_There'll be times when my crimes will seem almost unforgivable. -Depeche Mode, 'Strange Love'_

Leaning back against the plush headrest of the armchair, a man in his twenties allowed a subtle sigh to escape his lips followed by a low, guttural noise in the back of his throat.

It was a rarity to ever find even a shred or an ounce of peace within the confinements of his world. Sure, it was hard to believe that he, of all people, would need to face any sort of problem when people were paid to do so for him.

_Stand still, look pretty._

That was what they told him to do for practically every facet of his life.

Simple enough.

(The second part, that is.)

He had the face of an angel, but the recklessness of the devil.

(Then again, no one really cares what happens behind the scenes when your front is _that _good.)

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to just fuck it all and spend the rest of his life up in the mountains. Make snow or something equally as spectacularly mundane. Grow a beard. Reflect on life and talk to God, hoping God wouldn't start talking back (he didn't find the idea of schizophrenia that much appealing). Grow old and finally understanding what it meant to be unconditionally happy...

"Jesse."

His eyes fluttered open as he maintained his position against the armchair. The girl kneeling before him, however, immediately jumped at the sound of the cool voice by the door. Scrambling to her feet, she wiped the side of her mouth before hurrying past the blond who was still silhouetted by the soft lights of the hallway.

Her hand poised on her hip, she didn't flinch once while maintaining her gaze upon the figure upon the chair.

Zipping up his pants, he offered her a guiltless semi-smile as he slowly got up to his feet.

"Good evening, Quinn."

Strolling into the room, looking like she was mercilessly poured into her nude scoop-necked dress... the blond gave a wry smile.

"I sometimes wonder what goes through that head of yours when you've got some random bulimic model sucking you off like there was no tomorrow," she sighed, approaching the man as he stood to his full height. "I mean... do you just fade into nothingness?" letting out a small giggle, Quinn stopped beside him. Staring down into her blue orbs with his own hazel eyes, he felt her small hand trace the outline of his belt. She leaned in closer to breathe into his ear, "Or do you ever think of me?"

Grabbing her hand, Jesse allowed a cold smile to grace his handsome features. "There's a party we seem to be missing," he uttered quietly before removing himself from her close proximity. Striding over to the door, he held it open for her. Ignoring her pout, he watched her saunter by him and out into the hallway.

"I'm not angry, by the way," she added as they made their way through the classically decorated hall, carefully furnished with wall to wall carpeting and mirrors that ensured you looked skinny no matter what you had on. Arching an eyebrow, he shot her a quizzical look.

Catching his gaze, Quinn smiled and let out a genuinely amused chuckle. "I'm planning to find Sam... And then I'll fuck him brainless tonight," she shrugged her bare shoulders and looked over once more to find Jesse staring back at her, a glint in his intense eyes. As a smirk curved his lips, he shook his head casually.

"I don't see how that concerns me."

"It doesn't bother you that your wife fucks other men?"

He stopped in his tracks as they had reached the double-doors that served as an entrance to the party they had abandoned. Straightening his black tie, he peered over to Quinn who seemed to be losing her patience with his absence of an answer.

"No. Our marriage is just for show. A commercial for how fucking ecstatic we are when we're anything but," he uttered in a low voice, his cold eyes betraying the easy smile etched upon his face.

The blond stared up at him, her eyes hard. She then finally gave a tight smile.

"As long as that commercial remains convincing... I don't see why I needn't cut your balls off in your sleep yet," her smile morphed into a dazzling grin as the doors opened in time for the guests to notice their return.

Offering her a wink, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips as she attached herself upon his arm. They strolled into the ballroom for the evening's remaining festivities.

Quinn Fabray and Jesse St. James: High Society Royalty.

Daughter of the world-renowned Broadway producer, Russel Fabray, it came as no surprise when she tied the nuptial knot with then-up and coming Broadway superstar, Jesse St. James. Sure, it was out of the blue and so very rushed... but Russel prides himself as a good Christian conservative who ingrains traditional values such as arranging the marriage of his perfect virgin daughter to a man only he would deem fit. It was the picture perfect wedding and is now the model marriage. Who better to serve as role models to the younger generation than these two lovers?

If you believe that... maybe you should stop reading and continue to do so. Believe in the scratch-less surface of this fake, little bubble that feeds you lies and deceit each and every day.

Or you could see past the bullshit.

Immerse yourself in the truth behind what you see; the insanity that rules this society and the fact that they are fuelled by pride, envy, wrath, avarice, despair, gluttony and lust.

Find that it only takes one, single something (or in this case: _someone_) to unravel this perfect package.

Our story begins there.

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**Author's Note: **_Next chapter- Rachel Berry? ;)_


	2. Lust I

**Disclaimer: **_FIRST; I do not own Nine Inch Nails' 'Closer'_

_SECOND; I do not own Kylie Minogue's 'Red-Blooded Woman'_

_THIRD; There is some MAJOR coarse and abrasive language in this chapter. Then again... as do other chapters. But, I just felt it safe to warn you beforehand because I'm paranoid that way._

**Author's Note: **_First of all, thank you so much for the feedback. They always do the trick in inspiring me._

_Alright; this chapter is entitled Lust I for a reason. It is the first part in the theme of 'Lust' within LoveStrange._

_You will get a further taste of Jesse St. James._

_This chapter serves as a major plot point within the story. And not just in terms of 'the fated meeting'. I won't say any further as to not spoil the entire story for you all. Let me just say that we never realize the depth within the decisions we make as well as the consequences that follow it before it's too late._

_READ, ENJOY and REVIEW._

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_I wanna feel you from the inside; I wanna fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed; You get me closer to God – Nine Inch Nails, 'Closer'_

Jesse St. James _hated _pleasantries. What was the point of it? The world would be a much more... bearable... place to live in if everyone just got straight to the fucking point. Especially for him: why beat around the bush when everything he needed was sent straight to him the very moment a simple 'yes' or 'no' left his lips?

You could say that years of similar treatment has made him lazy. Or bored. He liked to think he wasn't easily amused or impressed.

(Well, he really wasn't)

He was a face. A walking advertisement for something he didn't practice himself. Morality and all that jazz... Fuck, _no one _practiced it. They only pretend to be something they're not because it's _easy_. Because they're too chicken shit to ever step up and present who they are for what they are. Because _he _was too chicken shit to step out of line.

But, that was something he would dwell on for another day.

For now...

"Mr. St. James! It's so nice to see you in _Cocoon _again!"

'Cocoon': an underground club that no one ever visits... in the public eye, that is. Behind closed doors, 'Cocoon' is a place where the privileged and common folk alike explore their dark desires. A place where raw talent is discovered every day. A hub for new opportunities to be honed in by anyone of any creed (by hook or by crook). Enter the cocoon and leave as a 'butterfly'. Changed.

Jesse felt a smirk tug on one corner of his lips as he looked past the host and into the club, pulsating with life. Feeling the music reverberate through his chest, it performed as the heart of the entire location: keeping time without fail.

"Always a pleasure, Damien," the young man nodded to the senior in acknowledgement.

Clapping Jesse on the shoulder, Damien led him into the club easily as if they had done this dance on countless occasions before.

"We've got some fresh meat tonight."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I expected a little more enthusiasm, kid."

A low, gravelly chuckle escaped Jesse's lips as he gave a casual shake of his head. He took in the familiar environment of the club: its usual crowd, the dark environment, the strobe lights, the nocturnal activities, everything. The St. James offspring turned to glance at the club's owner as they approached his usual table.

"You've got fresh meat in here every night, Dames. The bitch is always out after a what? Five minute performance?" loosening the one button of his dark suit jacket, Jesse took a seat followed by a grinning Damien.

"I've booked _this _one solid for two years straight."

Arching an eyebrow, the bronze-haired young man's response was cut off as the lights shut completely down. They, along with the rest of the club's patrons, turned their attention to the stage.

The silence was immediately filled by the beginning instrumentals of a vaguely recognizable song. A band of strapping men clad in nothing but Speedos began to surface from beneath the stage, earning raucous applause from every direction as they stood beneath prop showers that allowed water to run over their respective bodies.

This went on for quite some time in what seemed to be an attempt for hype building. It worked for the most part, seeing as Jesse was growing impatient to catch a glimpse of the main attraction while women (and men) carried on their wolf-whistles and cat calls.

And then out of nowhere, a dainty figure dressed in a black velvet trench coat appeared at the top of the staircase situated right smack in the middle of the stage.

Jesse strained his neck to peer closer to see her face as her head was bent low.

And then she looked up.

"_**Count backwards 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 **_

_**Before you get too heated and turned on (this guy)..."**_

The dark-haired singer onstage sang clearly, her voice hooking the audience straight in as they watched her descend the steps slowly, purposefully. Jesse's eyes followed the flashes of her thighs through the slit of the coat as she continued her movements.

"_**You should've learned your lesson all them times before **_

_**You've been bruised, you've been broken..."**_

She pouted seductively whilst running a skilful hand along one of the Speedo-clad men's jaw line as they reached to touch her hip.

"_**Then there's my mind saying think before you go **_

_**Through that door it could lead to nowhere (this guy)..."**_

Parting through the throng of men in her way coolly, the playfully devilish smile on her full lips never wavered as she skipped to the bottom of the staircase.

"_**Has got you all romantic crazy in your head**_

_**Do you think I listen? No, I don't care..."**_

The brunette wagged her finger to the audience as she shook her head along with the words. Sending them a wink, that same finger went to slowly unzip the front of her coat.

"_**Coz' I can't focus, I can't stop**_

_**You've got me spinning round, round, round, round..."**_

Two groups of dancers appeared on either side of the lead singer as they altogether rolled their hips in time with the lyrics, ending with their backs facing the crowd.

"_**... Like a record..."**_ she whispered into her head-mic while looking over her shoulder.

"_**I can't focus it's too hot (inside)..."**_ bending over, she tugged at the bottom of her coat, revealing more than a fair share of her shapely leg. Jesse felt himself shift in his seat as he blatantly ignored the waitress whom had brought him his usual drink.

"_**You'll never get to Heaven if you're scared of gettin' high..."**_ turning around slowly, she lifted her arms perpendicularly on each side, allowing the dancers to place their hands upon them.

"_**Boy, boy!"**_ as the chorus resounded explosively, the groups of dancers had pulled the brunette's black coat apart to reveal what she had on underneath: a lacy, intricately designed bra adorned with sparkling jewels and a crepe black skirt that held various partitions while reaching her ankles, flashing her toned legs as she moved.

"_**Let me keep freaking around, I wanna get down**_

_**I'm a red-blooded woman**_

_**What's the point of hanging around?"**_

Watching her shake her dark hair out behind her, the wavy-haired patron seated beside Damien rubbed his bottom lip absent-mindedly. His throat suddenly felt bone dry and the back of his neck felt like it was on fire. He attempted to mask the look in his eyes as he felt his companion stare at him in amusement.

"Rachel Berry."

Jesse's eyes reluctantly left the stage to meet the older man's gaze.

"What's her story?"

Damien gave a smug smile at hearing his beloved customer's query. He paused to watch Rachel further her performance onstage.

"_**My conscience saying: get down of the streets**_

_**It's too dangerous and deadly (this guy)**_

_**Has got you talking around in circles, can't you see?**_

_**All for the sake of sexy (lovin' it)..."**_

Stifling a groan, Jesse drank in the act as the singer climbed on top what seemed to be a riding bull.

"Not too shabby, eh?"

"You said her name's Rachel Berry."

"That's what I said."

"Where'd you find her?"

"Meh, she found us. Came in looking for a job months ago. She got her turn last weekend... been on ever since," Damien shrugged, leaning into his seat before scratching the pot belly that threatened to burst through the seams of his dress shirt.

"Why didn't I hear about her sooner?" Jesse questioned sharply, feeling uncomfortably large in his pants as the dancers onstage ripped the lady of mention's skirt off. She gave an exaggerated gasp of surprise as she stood there clad in a black bra and hot pants set along with knee-high leather boots.

_Motherfucking hell..._

The owner too seemed sidetracked for a moment as Rachel danced around the stage in her (lack of) attire before clearing his throat. "I'm guessing you were busy with the Mrs."

Licking his bottom lip, the younger of the two took a sip of his Scotch. Opting to ignore Damien's mention of Quinn, he knew better than to start delving into the mind-numbingly idiotic functions he and the blond had to play Mr. /Mrs. Hypocrite to on a weekly basis.

"In any case... she's good."

This was, in essence, the truth. As sexy as Rachel Berry was... she seemed to ooze stage presence and her voice was... surprisingly amazing. She certainly seemed to have brought a new brand of class to the stage previously occupied by inexperienced hoochie mamas.

"Fuckable too."

Jesse let out a silent snicker at hearing Damien's classy observation. Maintaining his gaze upon the stage, he noted that the song had grown slower as it was approaching the climax.

"_**Let me keep freaking around **_

_**(freaking around, freaking around)**_

_**Red-blooded woman**_

_**It's too hot inside..."**_

The brunette onstage stood in the middle of the dancers as they surrounded her. Bathing in the spotlight, a wind machine from beneath the stage blew her dark hair sensuously around her face as she tilted her chin upwards. Running her hands up and down the length of her body, Jesse fought against the savage urge to reach into his pants and start tugging furiously as he watched her spend a little more time feeling out her breasts.

"_**You'll never get to Heaven if you're scared of getting high!"**_

"I need to meet her," the words slipped out through his lips before he knew it.

"I knew you would."

Setting his jaw, Jesse's hazel eyes bore into Damien's beady orbs. He had a feeling the big boss man was going to be a jackass about this.

"Arrange it."

"You didn't think I'd let this bitch's tight, little body get into your hands just coz' you _asked, _did you, Jesse?"

"I'm not paying you just so I could _fuck_ her."

"Oh, so you're telling me you wouldn't want to stick your dick up her ass? Since when did you become a fucking queer?"

"No, I'm telling you she's a singer; not a prostitute. If I stick it up her ass, or wherever the fuck she wanted, it'll be because she begged me to."

"I don't give a shit about how goddamn fantastic you are in the sack, St. James. All I want is _my _cut. That pussy on stage is a _gem_. I ain't letting it go without a bid."

Exhaling sharply, Jesse's hand itched to land a blow right onto Damien's jaw. Though, he knew if he did, his ass would get booted and blacklisted; risking his shot at meeting the girl onstage. He watched Rachel end the song with a bright smile... he realized how much he wanted to take in her features closer and not just from a distance. Drink every inch of her in.

"I'll double whatever it is you're paying her..."

"Excellent."

"... But, this is only payment for you to arrange a meeting between us. Nothing more."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... I get it. It ain't screw money," the club owner signalled what seemed to be his personal assistant towards the table.

Jesse carefully watched Damien, sensing that the sleaze ball was up to something.

"Get a contract drawn up stating the sum of money I will receive from this... transaction between Mr. St. James and me... I act as the middle man to grant his wish in meeting with Rachel Berry... yada yada yada... you know the drill," he chattered dismissively as the diligent, young assistant intently scribbled everything down and mumbled something about calling the lawyers as soon as he can.

"_You... _you'll sign it in about three days and the meeting's all yours, kid. Try to contact her before that and you're fucking dead," he turned to Jesse, ending his explanation grimly as all amusement within his eyes had drained entirely. He then stuck his hand out for the younger man to shake.

Staring at Damien's hand for a few seconds, the St. James offspring gave a weary smile. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," and with that, he reached out and shook the man's hand firmly.

"Oh... it will, Jesse. It will."

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**Author's Note: **_Next chapter- Lust II_


	3. Lust II

**Disclaimer: **_FIRST; I do not own Feeder's 'Sex Type Drug'_

_SECOND; I do not own Donna Summer's 'Love To Love You, Baby'_

**Author's Note: **_All I have to say is - enjoy it while it lasts._

_READ, ENJOY and REVIEW._

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_Just need to make you see; Perfection is a sin, yeah  
Just feed you like a dog; Just wanna hear you come – Feeder, 'Sex Type Drug'_

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"_**When you're laying so close to me;  
**_

_**There's no place I'd rather you be than with me here;  
**_

_**I love to love you baby..."**_

Dressed in a ruby dress that hugged her curves generously, Rachel gave justice to the Donna Summer classic as she sang her heart out onstage. Tossing her hair over her shoulder and moaning seductively at the parts necessary, she was a goddess in the eyes of the men present.

"I bet that's how she sounds like when she's coming," some random kid in the audience (who was obviously too young to be in 'Cocoon', for fuck's sake) remarked giddily, catching another member of the audience's attention.

"Well, she sure as hell ain't baking a cake."

This was routine for the young diva every night. Deliver a stellar performance, humour the crowd a little and of course, go right into every man's spank bank. It wasn't the ideal job. Hell, it was far from it.

When she first came to the city, she had no idea what to expect. The only thing she was certain of was her dream of becoming a real Broadway star. Never in a million years would she have guessed that she would become the main attraction of a gentlemen's club. Sure, it paid well... and she was the star fixation...

But, she still faced the fact that this was _not _how she wanted her life to turn out.

Ending a performance was always a whirlwind of motions. She'd bow and smile before heading off stage and being escorted to her backstage dressing room. Along the way, she'd pose for pictures, receive letters, be told of business matters by Damien's personal assistant... all the while having to avoid the major crowd.

It was ridiculously hectic. And tonight was no different.

Someone had passed her the usual glass of red wine she always had after a nightly performance as she was being whisked away to her room. Fumbling a little in her heels, she had accidentally spilled the drink on the front of a stage worker's white shirt.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry, that was careless of me," she gasped in surprise, eyes wide. At this point, her escort had already pulled open the door to her dressing room. Reassuring the young star that it was alright, the stage worker bit back a sympathetic smile as Rachel was gently pushed into her room.

After all, every second she isn't working is every second money isn't made by a certain club owner. Damien felt compelled to preserve her.

Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Rachel stared at the door as it shut in her face. The brunette began to pull off her long black gloves while allowing a sigh of irritation to escape her full lips. She turned around to take in the familiarly large room adorned with costumes and mirrors and extravagant furniture alike. She did _not _expect to see a man seated by her vanity, eyes fixated completely on her.

Pressing her back against the door instinctively, she inhaled sharply out of reflex.

"Who are..."

"Did Damien forget to mention?"

Rachel paused at hearing his words. Feeling her muscles relax slightly, she removed herself from her position against the door.

"Mr. St. James?"

Jesse looked the slightest bit surprised.

"Oh, so he remembered?"

Who knew Dames would be a man of his word?

"He told me about our... appointment..." a small smile began to grace her delicate features as she slowly crossed the room. His eyes followed her movements coolly, discreetly admiring the sway of her hips as she did so.

"... I just didn't expect it to be in my dressing room," Rachel chuckled lightly before extending a hand towards him. His hazel eyes strayed to the hand before him. Slowly, he unhinged from his relaxed position in her chair to stand to his full height. Towering over her dainty figure, he smiled down upon the girl before him.

The brunette was a little disarmed, to say the least. The only thing Damien had mentioned before was that a Jesse St. James was a big fan and that he had asked to meet with her. What he _didn't _mention was the smouldering hazel eyes that seemed to strip her down to her core which came along with this one Jesse St. James.

Damien had told her not to fuck up this meeting (whatever _that _meant) considering that Jesse was an important client of his. 'Well-known' would be a better way of putting it. Rachel, however, had no idea who in the hell he was. She had only been in the city for a few weeks and she had had no time to cover who's who of high society when her life was in shambles enough... well, at least before she landed a job at 'Cocoon'. Even now... she failed to really understand the politics that dominated this... world of theirs.

"Rachel?" Jesse arched an eyebrow.

Realizing that she had been staring at him, she immediately snapped out of her reverie. Releasing the hand she had been shaking for a good few seconds by now, she apologized.

"It's still so bizarre to hear my name being recognized by someone I don't even know," she laughed musically, rubbing her bare arm as she took a small step back from the close proximity between them.

He grinned slightly in reply and nodded his head reassuringly. "Well, you deserve all the recognition you can get. You're a brilliant performer," he placed his hands in his pants pocket, making no move to increase their distance from each other.

Her smile grew softer. Feeling a prickle in her cheeks, she immediately looked down to the floor before clearing her throat professionally. "I'm sorry. How rude of me... would you like something to drink?" she backed away several more steps towards the mini-bar in the corner of the room.

"Scotch would be nice."

"Alright. And please make yourself comfortable."

Placing a glass on the counter, she reached for the desired bottle while discreetly looking over her shoulder and to her guest. He seemed to be absorbed in the pictures littered across the walls. Thus, she found herself studying his appearance. Dressed in a black well-tailored suit (custom-made, obviously)... the first two buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned casually... his broad shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist that displayed his leather belt... the Rolex on his wrist...

It was a little intimidating, seeing as she knew next to nothing about him.

"Damien mentioned why you came to see me," Rachel smiled a little to herself, as she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

"Did he?" his deep voice sounded genuinely curious as it floated from behind her.

"Yes. And I have to say I am deeply flattered... and impressed that a man of your stature would ever think the way you do about me. Let alone voice such a request."

She was actually being honest. Who knew that one of Damien's most important clients would come in to see her as a fan? She, who (in her opinion) was still practically a nobody. She barely had any genuine fans... only creepers and stalkers who made their sexual desires known on a daily basis via letters.

_This_ was special.

Hearing no response from him, she screwed the bottle back shut and decided to continue the conversation with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I mean... it means a great deal to me. I trust Damien and if he feels tonight be best for us to exercise the beginning of our relations, then I agree with him one hundred percent. And furthermore..."

Rachel would've completed her sentence to further explain that she never had fans before and such... that is, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of her bare arm to spin her around and towards him. Crashing his lips against hers, all coherent thought or sentence was out the window.

She considered putting up resistance for a brief moment, but the mewling that came from her throat surfaced the moment she felt his hot tongue trace her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She granted him that plea and immediately realized it had been the best decision of her life. The brunette was a little overwhelmed by how expertly his tongue explored her honey mouth; teasing and touching places she hadn't known existed before.

Feeling his large hands run down the length of her body, her own found their way into his wavy hair, fisting it. Without warning, he had lifted her up and onto the mini-bar with a grunt. Taking the opportunity to acquire a sharp intake of breath, it came and gone at lightning speed as he reclaimed her lips as his before trailing fiery open-mouthed kisses down her throat. Rachel was beginning to fear that she'd pass out from oxygen deficiency as he seemed to leave her little space to regain composure.

But, _damn_. What a way to go.

She was in the midst of pushing his jacket off of his shoulders when he positioned himself between her legs. The brunette felt his prominent bulge throbbing hotly within the restraints of his pants as he buried his face against her neck, biting and suckling on the tender flesh. Biting her lip fiercely, she released it suddenly to allow a loud, breathless moan out.

"_What is going on? This doesn't happen... This never happens..._" that nagging thought she had been struggling to shove to the back of her mind succeeded in ringing clearly through her head as Jesse's hot breath burned against her skin.

"Wh... ahh... What... brought... _this_ on?" she panted in between intakes of breath as his hands worked as gods of their own, reaching under her dress to feel her strong thighs while savagely continuing to kiss her now-bee stung lips.

"Isn't... this how it..." Jesse's fingers slipped to the inside of her panties in a swift motion, earning a surprised yelp followed by a shaky moan from the girl with her legs open to him. "... works?" he breathed, running his tongue along the base of her throat.

Burying her face into his shoulder, she was about to beg for him to just screw her brains out already... until she realized what he had just said.

"How _what _works?" she whispered breathlessly into Jesse's ear, still holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

Pulling back to look at her, he noticed the dazed and confused expression across her face. "You said Damien told you," he furrowed his brow slightly, chest heaving up and down.

The look on Rachel's face changed from puzzled to downright rage.

Before he knew it, she had raised her hand slapped him across his face before shoving him off of her. "You thought I was a prostitute?" she shrieked, pulling her dress up higher to further cover her chest.

Oh, _shit_.

"No, that's not it! I thought Damien would've misled you before..." he tried to explain himself as Rachel charged from him and towards the door, desperately trying to get away from him.

"Fuck you! Don't even try to explain yourself! There's a fucking difference between singing and hooking, you asshole!" she shook her head furiously, banging upon her door for security to come and escort him out.

"Rachel, listen to me! It's all a misunderstanding..."

The door had opened.

"Mr. St. James, I just want you to get the _fuck_ out NOW!"

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Sitting in the backseat of his limousine, Jesse watched the apartment building which housed the four-storey penthouse he inhabited with Quinn roll into view.

Things spiralled way out of control tonight.

He honestly thought that Damien had told the girl she'd be sleeping with him that night. Considering the way she conversed with him and the words she had chosen to use... he had wrongly guessed that as a green light.

How the hell was he supposed to know that that fucker, Damien, was going to listen to him for once? The man made it a known habit to defy every single request Jesse made in the past. All those times Jesse would tell Dames not to tell the girls to sleep with him (unless they wanted to)... the son of a bitch would go ahead and pay the girls double their paycheque to fuck the wavy-haired star. All those other times before, Damien would say A when he meant B. He'd say yes when he meant no. He'd tell Jesse things were running smoothly when shit was _really _hitting the fan behind the scenes.

So, why the hell would the 'Cocoon' club owner mean what he said this one time in regards to Jesse's meeting with Rachel?

Walking into the penthouse, he made his way towards the bedroom, his mind still spinning with the night's affairs.

The fucked up part was... Rachel seemed like a genuinely sweet girl. He had noted from the pictures decorating her dressing room that she was a family girl... seemed like she was from a small town. He felt like a jackass for treating her the way he did. Of course, that brief heated session between them was anything but forced. It was... to put it in terms: mind blowing. And they had barely scratched the surface of surpassing the boundaries between them.

Pushing open the door, he paused by the doorway as he watched the scene before him.

His wife on all fours with a familiar blond situated on his knees behind her.

A cliché to end all clichés.

Except for the part where Jesse didn't really give a damn.

"Shit!" Sam Evans uttered breathlessly at noticing the third party in the room. Losing his balance, he dropped unceremoniously to the floor, dragging the sheets with him. Looking over her shoulder, Quinn's forehead was covered with a thin sheen of sweat as her wispy blond hair stuck to it. She had the decency to smile as her husband strode into the room coolly. "Hey, baby," she murmured sweetly, manoeuvring herself to sit in a normal position.

"Oh, don't stop on account of me," Jesse responded sardonically, a humourless smile crossing his face as he watched Sam fumble to gather the sheets over the lower half of his body.

"Oh, please... Like you care," Quinn rolled her eyes while leaning back on her propped up elbows.

Nodding slowly, Jesse looked to her and then back to the blond standing before him. He raised his fist and smashed it right onto the other man's nose. Ignoring Quinn's scream as Sam instinctively raised his hands to cover the rapidly swelling injury while crumpling to the floor, Jesse casually turned back to her.

"You're right. But, I've still got my pride..." his voice was a low timbre as he made his way out the door, leaving a horrified and enraged Quinn Fabray in his wake.

"... _baby,_" the St. James offspring added coldly before disappearing completely from sight.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Is it getting hot in here? Phew._

_Next chapter? Well, Jesse just told you! It's all about 'Pride'._

_Until next time, my lovelies!_


	4. Pride

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Nine Inch Nails' 'Terrible Lie'. Though, I did exclude some bits of the lyrics._

**Author's Note: **_First of all, let me just say I am deeply sorry for the delay in updates. It was prom week and I was somewhat preoccupied in running around for last minute alterations, additional purchases to my ensemble, appointments here and there... it was crazy! But, I am back and I will try my best to keep you up to date with more chapters. _

_On a happier note, this chapter is really quite long compared to previous ones. And... I have a feeling you will enjoy it as we up the game a little in the lemon department. ;)_

_You will learn more about Jesse and Quinn's unhappy union._

_You will also read some character development._

_You will see how pride clouds the truth to the naked eye._

_You will get a sense of what Rachel and Jesse's relationship will be based on._

_READ, ENJOY and REVIEW._

_

* * *

_

_Theres nothing left for me to hide; I lost my ignorance, security and pride_  
_I'm all alone in a world you must despise; I believed the promises, the promises and lies - Nine Inch Nails, 'Terrible Lie'_

_

* * *

_

"Another one to the same address, sir?"

"Yes, Philip."

Jesse watched the elderly butler nod and shuffle towards the kitchen where he would make the necessary calls. It had been the seventh time that morning where Mr. St. James would ask for his manservant to arrange for bouquets of roses to be sent to a Miss Rachel Berry at 'Cocoon'. It would have been unprofessional for the greying old man to question his employer about whom this Miss Berry was, considering how adamant the young man seemed about ensuring that the florist would attach his apology letters to said bouquets. So, he didn't. He somehow knew that this young lady had to be really something because Mr. St. James _never _apologized for anything in his life.

He would leave it at that.

As Philip disappeared from view, Quinn strolled into the main living room dressed in an electric blue corset top-strapless maxi dress that floated down to her ankles. With her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, she finished putting on her chandelier earrings and expected her husband to question where she was about to head off to. Instead, the blond heard nothing.

Turning her attention to Jesse, she caught sight of him standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass window pane, watching the traffic below. Hands in the pockets of his khaki pants, he ignored her presence completely.

"Why do you keep sending flowers to 'Cocoon'?" she broke the silence, letting one perfectly manicured hand rest on her hip as she inclined her body towards Jesse.

"You know how your uncle loves the smell of fresh bouquet in the morning," he drawled dismissively, glancing to her through his peripheral vision.

Quinn scoffed, crossing the room purposefully, deciding that she could delay her brunch. "Damien is hardly family. We're not really related..."

"Just by blood," the St. James offspring smirked, finally turning his body towards her in amusement.

Stopping in her tracks, the blond narrowed her eyes on him poisonously. "I refuse to accept that... _miscreant_ as any kind of affiliation to me. He runs a brothel, for God's sake! If people ever saw me even talking to him..." she paused to let out a squeal of disgust before shaking herself off from imaginary filth. "... Ugh. Now how would _that _look?" she wrinkled her nose before planting herself upon the cream-colored _Bergere_ in a huff.

Jesse shook his head, the bemused expression on his face never wavering. Slipping off his glasses, he tossed them upon the end table before striding coolly towards his wife. Quinn's attention was successfully caught when he casually undid the top buttons of his black shirt. Masking her intrigue with indifference, she leaned into her seat gracefully while pretending to check the shine of her nails. She was acutely aware of his presence when he stopped right behind her seat.

"What's got you all tensed up this fine morning, darling?"

The blond stiffened at the sound of his deep voice as well as the feel of his hands loosely upon her bare shoulders. "Nothing's going as planned. Simone ordered white lilies instead of the orchids I _specifically asked_ _for. _The string quartet cancelled at the last minute, so we'll have to settle for a pianist. The caterers haven't confirmed their time of arrival with me yet..." she complained haughtily, pausing slightly when she felt Jesse's hands massage her shoulders with his slender fingers splayed across her collarbone.

"... The gala is going to be a mess..." she sighed softly as one of his hands slowed down to softly trace down her chest, edging dangerously close to the desired spot.

"... Daddy will be furious..." murmuring now, her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers stopped upon her breast. The encouraging grip on her other shoulder snapped Quinn out of her reverie as Jesse shook her with brotherly ease.

"We can't disappoint Daddy now, can we?" he bent down to plant a big, obnoxious kiss on her cheek before releasing the woman in his hands cheerfully. With that, he continued to unbutton the rest of his shirt as he disappeared into the hallway to make his way towards the bedroom.

Fuming, the blond did not appreciate being left high and dry. In fact, she fucking hated it. Sure, she did it to Jesse on a daily basis; walking around the house naked, tempting and teasing before shutting him out of the bedroom completely (practically each night)... Quinn found it deliciously hilarious to be able to wield that kind of power over him (even if he ignored her completely these days).

"Go to hell!" she roared at hearing him whistle merrily through the bedroom door. Grabbing her coat, she stormed out of their penthouse.

**XXXXXXX**

_**i.**__seven years ago_

"_Daddy, I..."_

_A sharp slap across her porcelain cheek._

"_I gave you everything. And what do I get?"_

_Feeling the hot tears stream down her face, the eighteen-year old blond said nothing in return. _

"_I am a spokesperson for the 'Good Christian Foundation', chairman of the 'Pure Tour for Teens'... How am I supposed to show my face anywhere, Quinn?"_

"_I love him!"_

_There was a scuffling between Mr. and Mrs. Fabray as he charged towards his daughter, ready to pulverize their little angel. The Mrs. wouldn't have any of that._

_That would be a little too much to explain to the paparazzi._

"_He is a fucking good-for-nothing slob with no future. And he's not even... I can't say it..."_

"_His name is Noah Puckerman, and yes he celebrates Hanukkah instead of Christmas and he happens to be the father of my unborn child!"_

"_Oh, honey. How can we be sure? You've been screwing around since you were practically in a training bra."_

_Quinn stared at her mother in stunned silence upon hearing the woman's cool remark. _

_The truth sure hurt like hell._

**XXXXXXX**

_**ii.**__two weeks later_

"_And just who the hell are you?"_

_The wavy-haired gentleman standing before the Fabray princess quirked a humourless smile. He retracted his hand casually before straightening up beside Russel Fabray._

"_Jesse St. James is your fiancée, Quinn."_

_The flames rose in her cheeks as her anger came out through angry growls. "What? I've never met this son of a bitch in my life!"_

_There was a hint of malice in his eyes as the silent bystander clenched his jaw tightly, allowing Mr. Fabray to take the reigns on this one._

"_That's because this was an arranged engagement. Set up because Quinn Fabray, daughter of Russel Fabray, entrusted her life-altering decisions to her doting parents, ever the astounding spokespeople of the good, clean life. Because she knew if she had fucked this one up, she would lose everything and that she would get nothing when Russel kicked the bucket..." Mr. Fabray's voice dripped with venom as he crushed his daughter's objection till there was no more._

"_She knew that she should better fucking listen to her daddy or her life would go to shit... because daddy would throw her into the mental institution, no questions asked. Blame it all on stress. The public would be understanding. Sympathetic even..."_

_As Russel spoke, he advanced on his daughter closer and closer, rendering her backwards. Clutching at her stomach protectively, she was familiar with her father's tactics. He'd spin a story out of thin air to threaten anyone because he knew he could make it all come true at the snap of his fingers. What she hadn't expected was for him to use it against her._

"_I don't need to be married..."_

_Interrupted by his raucous laughter, Quinn pressed her lips shut as she trembled the slightest._

"_Who the hell do you think you are? I am doing you a favour here, sweetie. Being a single mom is a worse circumstance than being the idiot who got knocked up by a fucking juvenile delinquent, trust me. How the hell am I supposed to show my face in a church if word gets out about that..." pointing to her belly in disgust, Russel simply shook his head and turned away._

**XXXXXXX**

_**iii.**__two weeks later_

"_I gave him the best goddamned blowjob of his life and he won't even return a stupid call?" _

_Quinn's voice rang throughout the entire room as Jesse and her went through the wedding invitations. He kept quiet as he flipped through the cards one by one, wanting to be done with it already. Arching an eyebrow in his direction, her lips twisted into a sneer._

"_Don't you ever talk? Or smile?"_

_He ignored her, counting backwards from a hundred._

_Relentless, the blond emitted a girly giggle as she twisted her body towards him._

"_Are you a retard? Because I knew a retard once. Went to my school. Oh my god, she was so fucking annoying. I always wanted to push her down the staircase, but __no__ that wouldn't look too good, now would it?"_

"_Could you just shut the fuck up for five seconds?"_

"_You don't get to talk to me like that, you bastard! You think I want this, huh? At least you're getting paid to do this shit. What the hell do I get? To keep this stupid baby?"_

"_Don't talk about it like that."_

"_Why the fuck not? It sure as hell isn't yours now, is it?"_

_Jesse threw down the invitations and turned to face her completely._

"_You really think this is about the money, don't you princess?"_

"_Well, it certainly is a palpable excuse for __your __dirt poor ass."_

_His hand itched to wrap around her throat and choke the life out of her. Instead, he just shook his head with a menacingly cold smirk._

"_You have no idea about __anything__, Quinn. Absolutely no fucking idea."_

**XXXXXXX**

_**iv.**__six weeks later_

"_I told you to go easy on the liquor."_

_Jesse spoke quietly as he watched the back of his wife's head. She laid upon the clean, sterilised bed as still as a log. He heard no reply, but continued to speak anyway._

"_I told you to stop smoking."_

_Still no response._

"_I told you to get rid of the coke hiding in your compact mirror."_

"_Didn't you ever stop for one second to think... maybe I hated that little bastard?"_

_The young man furrowed his brow as he watched Quinn incline her head slightly as to be heard clearly by him and him alone. He held his breath, afraid to mishear a word she said. _

"_Didn't you ever stop to realize... I knew exactly what I was doing because I thought that with him out of the picture... I could finally get rid. of. you?" _

_Her voice was hoarse and barely audible, but the stinging chill behind every word cut through like a knife._

"_I made this miscarriage happen. But, oh look... you're __still__ here."_

_She shot him a poisonous look of utter loathing before pulling the hospital sheets up higher to her chin and turning her back on him once again._

_Jesse didn't know why he felt something. He knew it wasn't his child to even begin with. He knew he was no more than a scapegoat for the entire situation. He also knew he had to sacrifice so much to be forced into said predicament. _

_He didn't know why he still felt 'that' something. _

_It was then had he realized that maybe he didn't have to try so hard with Quinn. Feeling nothing was much more rewarding and a lot less unpredictable than the opposite. _

_Feeling 'nothing' excluded you from the pain of realization._

_So, he got up and exited the room, hearing every word she said._

_What he didn't hear were the silent sobs Quinn emitted throughout the night._

_**XXXXXXX**_

_Present Day_

Rachel traced the rim of her wine glass subconsciously as she listened to Colin (someone she had met through Damien) drone on about the ups and downs of the stock market. Realizing she wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise, she smiled and nodded at the right places during their one-sided conversation. It was three in the afternoon and way before the club would open, so this was the only time she'd be able to fraternize with certain people only her manager would deem worthy. _"Gotta rub shoulders with the right kinda people if ya wanna get anywhere in town, kid," _Damien would say. So, there she was: sitting by the bar with a man she couldn't stand. Fabulous.

Though, at this point she didn't really see the need of even pretending to listen anymore. Colin seemed to grow more and more passionate about his explanation, thus most probably forgetting about a second party completely. She was just too polite to end their conversation first.

"I'm a go-getter, you know what I mean? I see what I want, narrow my visual on it and I attack," he spoke with a slight stutter, obviously getting worked up by all the excitement focused on himself.

"Wow. Do you really think 'attack' is a good term to use on women?" the brunette managed to cut in fluidly with a charming smile, sipping her Evian as she listened to Colin bark out somewhat forced laughter.

"I see you're regaling this young lady, Cavanaugh."

Rachel froze as her brown eyes lifted to meet with a pair of amused hazel orbs.

Colin spoke before she could.

"Son of a gun, St. James. Where did you come from?" he asked with a bright laugh, eyes sparkling behind his round-rimmed glasses.

Jesse kept his eyes on the singer as she averted her gaze from him. "Lunch. Thought I'd drop by, considering I have somewhat of a personal matter to attend to," his voice was low and controlled before he turned to Colin Cavanaugh with an easy smile.

"Brilliant, brilliant... I was just telling Rachel here about the current economical state of our country... this girl's a wonderful listener," gesturing to the smiling brunette, she struggled to keep her eyes on anything but Jesse.

"Well, that certainly sounds like first date material," the St. James offspring coolly replied with a light-hearted chuckle as his friend boisterously joined in.

After excusing himself to the bathroom, Colin had conveniently emptied his seat beside Rachel for the taking.

She watched him seat himself without another word. He was definitely not as overdressed as he was from the other night. Clad in a pair of dark pants and a navy blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves, he seemed almost casual. There was a moment of unbearable silence before Rachel heaved a small sigh to which he immediately responded to.

"I'm sorry."

"I figured."

"Did you get the flowers I sent you?"

"All ten thousand bouquets? Yes. Yes, I did."

Jesse let a small snicker escape his lips at the sound of her irritated tone. She seemed mildly amused when detecting his ease to the situation.

"I hope you didn't come to explain yourself all over again."

"I didn't."

"Because the whole 'it was a misunderstanding that involved a third party' explanation gets a little repetitive after the first few hundred times."

"I figured."

Rachel couldn't help but giggle slightly at his imitation of what she uttered just a few seconds ago. Clearing her throat, her laughter died down when his smile slowly faded. His hooded gaze awakened a funny tickle in her stomach as it brought her back to the night they first met. She suddenly felt scandalously dressed despite her simple choice of attire: a long, cream-colored blazer over a loose, gold top that hung mid-thigh.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

His deep, masculine voice did nothing to calm her tingling nerves.

"Like you can actually _see _me. You don't even know the first thing about what you're looking at."

"I know enough."

The young ingénue blinked, searching his face for any trace of humour but found casual ease instead. He sensed her subtle befuddlement and intrigue to his bluntness. His lips parted to break the short silence.

"I know that you're a kind person who doesn't deserve to be treated like prized cattle. I know that I am completely enamoured by your voice. It moves me..."

Jesse lowered his head a little towards her as his voice became slightly above a whisper.

"I know that your talent shouldn't go to waste in this place. I know that there's more to you behind the persona you present onstage. I know you're _not_ one of those people who are so full of shit they actually believe they're living the lives they present. It's..." he paused to drink in her features as she stared back at him, unblinking.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, his own brow furrowing at the realization.

Rachel swallowed thickly, painfully aware of how close their faces were. She felt his warm breath mix with hers; a mix of his mint and the watermelon gum she had earlier. It was positively delectable and she felt her breathing quicken the slightest when he began to run his fingertips along her forearm, tracing concentric circles. The brunette knew that with him touching her: it would lead to dangerous territory. Especially since he was so goddamned good at it.

"Colin's going to be back."

Her voice seemed almost unrecognizable as it sounded lower and huskier than usual.

"No, he's not."

She frowned a little at his reply. Jesse continued, offering an explanation.

"You seemed miserable back there. So, he's been conveniently extracted by security. Business matters."

Rachel's cheeks flushed hotly as she felt her heart pound distractingly in her ears. Jesse had softly placed his hand on her inner thigh during mid-sentence and it was enough to make her forget about the world completely. His touch shot furious bolts of arousal through her, causing an almost painful aching between her legs that begged for more.

"I'm guessing you had a part in that 'convenient extraction'?"

She was incredibly mystified that she could still manage coherent conversation when his fingers continued to move beneath her dress, though her voice did become noticeably tighter. His face seemed composed as there was a slight tilt to his mouth; a hint of a smirk. It pissed her off, but the situation was completely sudden and unpredictable. She wasn't prepared for it at all.

His fingers lingered a particularly long time at the seam of her lace panties, viciously teasing her by stroking the skin of her inner thigh without proceeding further. The brunette hated herself for playing so putty into his hands, but the control he had over her was unexplainable. How had they gone from his intrusion upon her meeting with a reputable stockbroker to...

She gasped when his hand suddenly lifted and slid into the front of her panties. Grabbing the edge of the bar, she managed to anchor herself gingerly. Rachel couldn't help but let out a soft moan when she felt his fingers gently parting her, slipping into her silky wetness. The mere sight of him was enough to arouse her that the slightest contact allowed shivers of pleasure to course through her veins.

If she were being brutally honest, she would admit that there hadn't been one night where their first meeting didn't invade her thoughts. It had been a little over five days since the incident and she never expected to see him again. She _should _have demanded to never see him again. After all, she had made a promise to herself that singing at the gentlemen's club would be as low as she would go. Making it a habit to sleep with wealthy, respectable clients? That was something she wouldn't allow herself to do.

But, she couldn't explain the chemistry that sparked between her and Jesse. The hold he had over her was enticing, his fascination towards her was inexplicably unfathomable, and the fact that she would wake up every night drenched through her clothes from dreams of the night they met were enough to drive her insane.

Jesse's breathing hitched as well.

"I just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

He responded to her question carefully, suddenly appreciative of the fact that they were alone at the bar even though they were relatively discreet in their motions.

The movement of his fingers were minimal, but he used them slowly and expertly. As if he knew exactly what to do (and he did).

"You certainly are..." her voice was soft and breathy as her eyes fluttered heavily shut.

"Fuck, Rachel... you feel so good..." gently running his fingers up and down her wet flesh, his breath was hot against her ear when he leaned in closer. She inhaled his cologne deeply, biting her bottom lip so hard she could've sworn she was drawing blood. The brunette wanted so badly to hear him whisper sexy erotic nothings into hear again and again. It was indescribable.

There was an unexpected flicking of his fingers and she was gone, gone, gone.

"Oh... God... Oh my god..." she gasped desperately when his fingers sped up their movements. Her eyes begin to water from having to stifle herself. She didn't exactly think that alerting the bodyguards outside with screams of Jesse's name would be appropriate. Unable to hold it in any longer, soft cries emanated from her through her harshly sealed lips.

She felt her insides begin to clench and release powerfully, sending indescribable pleasure reverberating through her. As her cries began to grow higher in pitch, Jesse kissed the shell of her ear before whispering "Relax, Rach... Let go. Just let go."

His husky, guttural voice was all she needed left to be sent over the edge. Her eyes squeezed shut and her body began to tremble as she held onto the edge of the bar for dear life. Feeling her toes curl in her platforms, Rachel's breath came in quick gasps and she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle any sounds from escaping.

Once the last few shudders coursed through her body, Rachel's eyes slowly opened and adjusted back to the light. Jesse stared back at her coolly, breathing a little more heavily than before. There was no room left for conscious thought as she felt his soft lips press against hers. It was hesitant at first, but when he felt her pull the front of his shirt closer, his hand immediately went to cup the back of her neck.

"Mr. St. James!"

Jesse recognized Damien's voice immediately when he broke the kiss. Allowing his lips to hover close to hers, his mind worked quickly. "Hit me," he murmured. "What?" she whispered harshly back, confused by the frequently dramatic turn of events.

"You've got a reputation to uphold. If Damien even _thinks_ you're sleeping with me, he'll use it to exploit you. So, hit me," he explained hurriedly, hoping she would get the message considering that Damien was on his way over now with the two bodyguards from before.

Rachel raised her hand her slapped him roughly across the face for the second time in the few days that they had somewhat known each other.

"How dare you," she added for good measure, narrowing her eyes upon him once security began to pull her up from her seat. Jesse studied her face wordlessly. Was she really that good of an actress?

Rachel turned to look at him over her shoulder before disappearing out the door.

He held back a grin.

She was.

Damien smoothed the front of his printed shirt and sent a smirk towards the St. James offspring. "That's my pride and joy, Jesse. My pride and joy," he spoke casually, though the warning tone behind his words were clearly obvious. He did not take too kindly to son of a bitches who fucked around with his most expensive attraction.

The younger man rubbed the side of his face where Rachel's hand had made contact and shrugged in nonchalance. "I guess I'm just not good with people, Dames," he replied, keeping his face controlled and bemused.

The club manager maintained their eye contact for a good few seconds and was satisfied when Jesse's gaze never wavered. He finally grinned toothily to his best client. "Looking forward to the gala, my boy!" he chuckled, guiding his cane while moving towards the exit.

Watching Damien leave, the wavy-haired gentleman exhaled deeply. He turned his attention to the poster that hung behind the bar. It was an advertisement of Quinn's charity gala. Her precious, little project. Underneath, the poster also read: 'Featuring Newcomer Rachel Berry as The Night's Entertainment'.

"We all just can't wait," he murmured, more to himself than anything.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_*fans self*_

_There will be further character development in the upcoming chapters, not to worry._

_We will look further into Damien's ties with Quinn._

_How Jesse was roped into his marriage to Quinn._

_Rachel's history._

_How Rachel and Jesse's relationship evolves throughout the secrecy of their connection._

_And of course: More smut like whoa. ;)_

_Next chapter – Avarice _


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